


it's alright we'll think of something, step up come on and jump in

by Shadowcrawler, unwindmyself



Series: What do you say, is this the time for one more try at a happy life? [4]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Academia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Censorship, F/F, Female Friendship, Femslash, Gen, Gossip, Halloween, High School, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:19:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4511100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/pseuds/Shadowcrawler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy Carter tries to make a difference in the lives of students and grows increasingly exasperated with the system.</p><p>This time: Sousa has a date, and everybody is curious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I believe you try to read too much between the lines

**Author's Note:**

> So we felt the cast of _Agent Carter_ deserved their own mallverse story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miriam Fry has something to say about controversial literature, and nobody else wants to listen.

“Everyone here?” grunts Principal Phillips. Not that he really cares, but they make him check.

Or at least, they make Dooley check. Dooley doesn’t want to be there either, but he dutifully glances around to make sure that someone from every department has bothered to show up.

Miriam Fry from home ec is buttoned up as usual, wearing as little color as possible and looking vaguely affronted at having to be here. Especially since she’s seated directly across from Sarah, the health teacher, who is wearing a button that says “chlamydia is not a flower” on her sweater.

Carter and Martinelli, from history and drama respectively, are holding hands, which he only bothers to wonder about for half a second before moving on. They’re seated next to Colleen, the head librarian, who’s wearing a worried expression. Carter, on the other hand, seems ready for a fight.

Thompson and Underwood have both shown up - unnecessarily, since they’re co-heads of phys ed - and are eyeing each other like they might have a brawl right here and now.

Sousa looks about as comfortable as a cat in a water park, as if he’d much rather be grading term papers on _The Great Gatsby._ Jarvis, from math, probably agrees with him.

Jones and Dugan, from languages and shop, are joking with each other about something. Morita, who was apparently the only science teacher on hand, is smirking and throwing scathing one-liners into the conversation.

Finally, Howard Stark is here, for god knows what reason. He insists on showing up to the staff meetings despite contributing almost nothing. But he also dumps thousands of dollars into this school, so they play nice.

“All here,” replies Dooley.

“Alright, let’s get started. Because then we can all go home,” says Phillips, who has better things to do on a warm August day than talk to his subordinates. “Anybody got anything to report?”

“I’ll be organizing a fundraiser when the school year begins,” Colleen offers. “As usual, we’re short a not-insignificant number of textbooks and getting them late is better than getting them never.”

“Hey, I could maybe help you out with that if you want,” says Howard with a grin. “All it’ll cost you is a date.”

Colleen rolls her eyes. “How many ways do I have to tell you I’m not interested, Howard?”

“Please?” he wheedles. “I’m very charming. Just one date and you’ll change your mind, guaranteed.”

“I don’t care how charming you are, I don’t go in for your type,” Colleen shrugs blithely.

Howard clutches at his chest. “You wound me.”

Phillips coughs. “Riveting as this is, does anyone else have anything to say? Also, noted, Ms. O’Brien.”

“Er, I’m intending to teach a unit on dystopian fiction this semester,” says Sousa, a bit nervously. “Do you think we’ll need parental permission slips?”

Phillips opens his mouth to say something, but then Miriam interrupts. “Erm, Mr. Sousa, what exactly is it that you think the parents might object to?”

“The stories cover some controversial topics,” he says casually, like he’s rehearsed it. “War, class politics, gender politics. Nothing out of the ordinary.” He hopes.

“Gender...politics?” Miriam sounds not unlike most people would while talking about dead animals or another unpleasant subject.

“He means sex,” replies Angie, grinning mischievously.

Miriam goes a bit pale. “And you intend to have them _read_ these sorts of books?”

“Yes,” Sousa says. “They’re influential works of literature and they offer valuable commentary on the world.” He doesn’t sound entirely sure of this, but he’s got his argument down.

“Principal Phillips, surely you’re not going to let him teach such...such _filth!_ ” squawks Miriam.

“I haven’t even said what’s on the curriculum yet,” Sousa mutters, almost looking amused.

Phillips sighs. He just wanted this to be over as soon as possible. “What’s on it?”

“Right now, _1984, Brave New World, The Handmaid’s Tale_ , and _The Hunger Games_ ,” Sousa explains.

“Don’t those involve children killing each other?” asks Miriam, looking more horrified (if it’s possible).

“For twisted political ideals,” Sousa nods. “It’s not presented as admirable, but rather deplorable.”

But Miriam’s not listening, of course. “Principal Phillips, I’m lodging a formal complaint against this!”

“Uh huh,” says Phillips. “Noted.”

“Any student who doesn’t feel comfortable reading certain books can opt out,” Sousa offers. “That’s always been true. They and their parent sign a form and I’ll give them an alternate assignment.”

Miriam’s still looking huffy. “I’ll be bringing my complaints before the other staff and the administration, Mr. Sousa.”

Jarvis seems puzzled. “This seems very odd,” he whispers to Peggy, who’s sitting to his right. “We never have such aggressive discourse in the maths department.”

“The humanities do incite more opinions,” Peggy murmurs. “Probably because there’s so much about them that’s seen as subjective rather than objective. You can’t very well argue numbers. Though, sometimes that’s just what people debating things in the humanities try to do.”

Chuckling, Jarvis nods. “It all seems quite messy to me.”

“This probably isn’t the time to mention that all of those books have been in the library for years,” Colleen murmurs. “And to my knowledge, at least two of the four have been taught before.”

“Very good points,” says Gabe, smiling over at Colleen.

Colleen nods in return. “And, dare I say it, we have much more questionable material,” she says, sounding a little braver. “Some of it nonfiction. The world is rebellion and sex just as much as literature is.”

That makes Miriam yelp and put a hand to her heart. “Ms. O’Brien! I am well aware of the evils of the world. I merely suggest that we not expose our children to them unduly.”

“By the time some of them come through my class, they’re legally adults,” Sousa points out.

“And they’ve probably at least thought about doin’ most of it, if y’know what I mean,” adds Angie, trying in vain not to look smug.

Miriam shakes her head. “Well, you’ll see that some of us still believe in decency.”

“I believe Mr. Sousa already pointed out that one’s personal beliefs would be respected in this matter,” Peggy says archly. “Decency, as you put it, can take many forms.”

“And it isn’t like reading a book is the same as agreeing with everything it says,” Colleen points out.

Making _tsk_ ing noises, Miriam quiets down, and the meeting limps through another awkward five minutes before Phillips ends it.

 

* * *

 

Peggy is grumbling to herself as she enters the house and throws her bag down on the counter. “When Sousa told me about his proposed curriculum, I knew it was going to stir some sort of trouble,” she mutters.

Angie comes over to pat her shoulder. “Sorry, Peg. Miriam hasn’t been on a crusade for a while, I guess she was just due.”

“It just makes me so _furious_ ,” Peggy exclaims. “That she thinks she has the moral right to dictate others’ behavior.”

“It’s stupid,” agrees Angie. “What are you gonna do about it? I know you got something in that clever head of yours.”

“Flatterer,” Peggy chides, if cheerfully, and she pulls Angie over to the couch. Contemplative cuddling is one of the most comfortable things she can imagine. “I suppose we’ll have to see what she’s working up and counteract it.”

Angie drapes herself across Peggy’s lap and sighs. “Yeah, god only knows what she’ll concoct. Probably make signs. ‘Just Say No to Smut!’”

Peggy chortles. “If it wouldn’t end so horribly, I’d be tempted to tell her she had to read the damn books before she complained about them,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, but then she couldn’t get on her high horse and _then_ where would we be,” giggles Angie.

“One step closer to a more tolerant environment,” Peggy deadpans.

Angie grins. “I don’t know how we haven’t been fired like five times already. You’re a crusader and I’m just a troublemaker.”

“And we’re not exactly the sneakiest live-in girlfriends,” Peggy points out.

“And that,” purrs Angie, leaning up to sneak a kiss. “We’re not teengers, why should we sneak?”

“We shouldn’t,” Peggy agrees. “I’m sure certain parties would be happier if everyone kept their personal lives positively _clandestine_ , but they can step off.”

“Sure can!” says Angie cheerfully. “You seem pretty worked up. Want me to...fix that?”

“Exactly how would you propose?” Peggy chuckles, though of course she knows.

“ _Well_.” Angie shifts so she’s sitting in Peggy’s lap and leans in to kiss her neck. “I’ll come up with something. I got a few ideas.”

 

* * *

 

Sousa looks at the piles of pages in front of him, smiling. “I’m impressed.”

“Pretty good, huh?” asks Angie, beaming.

“Very good,” he agrees.

“I took a copy with me on Saturday,” says Jarvis, almost shyly. “Ana was appalled when I told her and took it upon herself to explain the situation to everyone she talked to. She’s very persuasive.”

“My book club, obviously, was all about getting it signed and spread,” Colleen offers.

Morita smirks. “I’ve got friends who hate censorship.”

“I admit my part was largely giving a copy to Sharon and setting her loose,” Peggy grins. “I expect she got signatures from everyone she’s ever spoken to in that mall.”

“And I just emailed some of my old pals from my theater days,” finishes Angie.

“It’s wonderful,” Sousa says. “I’m sure Miriam is doing the exact same thing, but I imagine she’s polling a much smaller group.”

Angie snorts. “Hope so. Ridiculous, pitching a fit over something so silly.”

“Book burners,” Colleen sighs. “There are some of them in every community. We spent entire class sessions in library school talking about them.”

Jarvis winces. “Yes, need I remind everyone that the most infamous incidents of literal book burning were committed at the hands of Nazis? There were long lists of the sorts of books that were to be burned, and the burnings were held in public and in some cases broadcast on the radio. The estimate is upwards of 25,000 books were destroyed.”

Colleen and Peggy shudder in unison. “No good comes of emulating the behavior of Nazis,” Peggy says archly.

Morita snorts. “But knowing Miriam, she’d insist that _her_ burnings weren’t the same thing.”

“That would be a fascinating train of horrible logic,” Peggy snarks.

“Don’t let’s consider it,” pleads Jarvis. “Anyhow, Mr. Sousa, I do hope this will help you.”

“I think it will,” Sousa declares. “I think we’ve got a good shot at this.”


	2. when I'm blaming everybody else and no one's coming clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunchtime involves teacher's lounge gossip, a recounting of Dottie's latest mishap, and a new crisis for Miriam.

“It really does astound me,” Peggy is saying, “how students can get through to high school and still think their own country’s history is fanfare and glory.”

Jarvis winces. “Well, the American curriculum hardly does them any favors in that regard.”

“Still, you’d think that at least a few of them would actually seek things out on their own,” she sighs. “And that’s another thing. I think I’ve heard thirteen different variants on ‘why do you teach US history if you’re British?’ already this year. I’m bloody sick of it.”

“Oh dear. Everyone in my classes has been very quiet.” Jarvis shrugs a bit.

“Well, that’s no surprise, I’d say in any given maths class you’ll have a maximum of three students who actually find it interesting,” Peggy teases.

Making small huffing noises for a minute, Jarvis then replies, “Well, at the very least if they’re asleep, they’re quiet. No snoring.”

“Truthfully?” she sighs. “I only _wish_ some of the little assholes in my class were asleep.”

“That’s rather unkind,” he replies, giving her a disapproving look.

“It’s true,” she retorts. “I adore teaching the students who actually give a damn. But the ones who think they can float from honors course to honors course skating by on reputation are impossible.”

“Mmm, fair point.” Jarvis nods. “That’s frustrating.”

“I’m sure you’re used to it, what with your subject.”

He shrugs again. “I try not to dwell on the negative aspects.”

“Have you heard the latest news?” Sousa asks as he metaphorically skips in.

“About?” Peggy asks, raising an eyebrow.

“The battle for the gym class throne, of course,” Sousa chuckles, sliding into a seat at the table.

Jarvis gives him a startled look. “This is still going on?”

Sousa nods very seriously. “It’s not going to end until one of them murders the other,” he declares, and he may or may not be kidding.

“Well, what happened this time?” Peggy asks, because she can tell that Sousa really wants to tell. (He’s fond of rolling his eyes at Thompson, so it makes sense.)

“This is the secondhand version, mind you,” he says. “Heard from Gloria in the front office. Their fourth-period classes joined up, I presume because it’s the beginning of the year and nobody quite knows what to do when the students are still only halfway cognizant, and as they tried to give directions, what started as verbal stepping on toes soon turned to, I quote, ‘accidental’ shoving and elbowing.”

“Good lord,” replies Jarvis. “Aren’t we all a bit old to be acting like our pupils?”

“We all are,” Sousa agrees. “Thompson is, I’m betting Dottie is but with her you never know. That’s not the punchline of this story, though.”

“Oh?”

“So he’s trying to shove her around, but you know Dot, she doesn’t let herself be shoved by anyone,” Sousa continues. “And one of the, again a quote, ‘little jerks’ in the class said, ‘you know he’s only teasing you because he likes you.’”

“And I sent that little bastard right to Phillips,” chirps Dottie, almost literally skipping in. “Serves him right.”

Jarvis sighs. “I suppose your language choice was downright civilized, in comparison,” he mutters to Peggy, who just grins at him smugly.

“And Thompson looked like he wanted to sink right into the ground,” continues Dottie. “Pretty sure he hasn’t been told something like that since _he_ was in high school! Anyway, I know he doesn’t feel that way about me, I scare him too much. Thank god.”

“I think he’s afraid of most women who actually express opinions,” Peggy snarks.

“No kiddin’,” scoffs Dottie. “Gotta feel bad for any girl who stumbles into that. So, speaking of opinions, how’s that book thing going, Danny?”

Sousa flushes like he does every time she pet-names him. “We had enough signatures and persuasive arguments to keep the books from being banned or the curriculum being altered,” he explains, “but Miriam still grumbled.”

Dottie rolls her eyes. “She’d grumble if we let her be in charge of the whole school. Say it was too much responsibility for a lady like herself.”

“Underwood,” says a new voice, “could you stop sending kids to my office for stupid reasons?” It’s Principal Phillips, who’s wearing his customary frown.

“It wasn’t stupid,” she replies. “He was being disrespectful and assumptive.”

He groans. “If you think I’m gonna write some kid up for mouthing off, you’re deeply mistaken.”

“Maybe if there was actually some punishment for mouthing off, it would be less prone to happen,” Peggy suggests brightly.

Phillips has no response to that besides muttering under his breath, and goes over to the fridge to pull out his lunch.

The room is quiet for a minute or two, until Thompson enters. “Hey, Phillips, I gotta talk to you about-” He freezes when he sees Peggy and Dottie glaring at him. “Uh. Never mind.” Then he spins on his heel and goes right back out the door.

Peggy bursts out laughing. “My goodness,” she murmurs.

“Told you,” says Dottie with a smirk.

But apparently Phillips isn’t destined to spend his lunch unbothered, because the next thing they know Miriam is swooping into the room squawking, “Principal Phillips, I’d like to lodge a complaint!”

“Oh, you would, huh?” Phillips puts down his turkey sandwich and sighs. “Spit it out.”

“Sir, I have just found out that Ms. Martinelli is planning on performing the musical _RENT_ for the spring production!” Miriam clutches her hands together. “Do you _know_ the subject matter of that musical?”

Phillips grunts. “Do I look like the sort of person who goes to the theater?”

“ _Well_. It is a sordid tale of homosexuality, loose morals, cross-dressing, prostitution, and AIDS. _AIDS!_ I really feel it is inappropriate for the school to endorse.”

“Wait _just_ a minute,” Peggy exclaims. “While the material may seem scandalous to you, it’s a portrayal of what amounts to a different life than you lead, nothing more.”

“Yes, but it promotes the sort of...well, _lifestyle_ that could lead down a very dark path,” retorts Miriam. “I just don’t think exposing vulnerable young people to those sorts of ideas is appropriate.”

“Complaint noted,” says Phillips. “But Ms. Frye, I frankly do not give a rat’s ass what Martinelli does with the drama department or what you think about it. No one’s forcing you to see it. Just settle down for five minutes and stop butting your nose into everyone’s business.”

Miriam huffs. “If _that’s_ the kind of response I get, then I’ll just take this to the administration.” She flounces out of the room.

Once she’s gone, Jarvis chuckles. “Seems she’s found her new target, after the book banning failed.”

“Guess it had to be something,” Sousa sighs.


	3. the night’s moving in around me but I’m not tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The high school hosts a Halloween event for local kids; as it turns out, most of the teachers aren't so good with the under-twelve crowd.

“Should we take attendance?” Colleen asks softly, watching their fellow staff members bustle around the gym.

“We already know the answer,” Sarah drawls, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “Everyone is here but no-fun Miriam.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Angie says with a snort.

‘How did you manage to talk Dooley into coming?” Colleen giggles, watching the assistant principal frown at everything from one of the chairs along the wall.

Angie shrugs. “I’m very persuasive. That, and I pointed out that if he didn’t come, he’d have to deal with kids coming to his house anyway. He decided this was better than hiding in his office all night.”

“Well, we’ll see if that holds true for the rest of us,” Sarah smirks. “If he’s too much of a buzzkill we can let him stay home next year.”

“True,” says Angie, grinning. “So,” she says, a little louder to call attention to herself, “let’s get started, okay? Thanks for helping us out, everyone.”

The buzz doesn’t quite die down in time, so Peggy, from the back of the room, yells, “Everybody listen up!”

That works better, and Angie winks at Peggy before continuing, “So basically we need to divide people up by activity. There’s gonna be face painting, bowling, a beanbag toss, a fishing game, a room for toddlers, and of course the indoor trick-or-treating.”

“You obviously want me for face-painting,” says Morita, smirking.

“Obviously,” echoes Sarah, filling his name in on the roster that Colleen drew up.

“Well, I’d be terrible at every single one of those,” says Dottie cheerfully. “How about I tell ghost stories in the gym?”

“Try to keep the murder to a minimum,” Colleen says with a weak smile.

Dottie shrugs. “No promises.”

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Underwood,” grunts Phillips.

“That may or may not work,” Ana whispers to her husband.

Jarvis chuckles. “It’s an ambitious goal, anyhow.”

“I’m going to take the toddler room,” Colleen offers, “since it’s going to be pretty low-key and there probably won’t be any costumes with feathers that would get up my nose or anything. Anyone want to partner up?”

“I’ll go,” says Gabe cheerfully. “I don’t mind toddlers. They’re endearing.”

Bucky and Natasha exchange a relieved look. “Not that I think we’d get roped into that,” murmurs Natasha, “but still.”

“Oh, come on, it wouldn’t be that bad,” Sharon whispers.

“You don’t get to talk right now,” jokes Bucky, nudging Sharon’s fake pregnant belly.

Sharon makes a face. “Well, I didn’t _ask_ to be the pregnant one,” she huffs.

“Shoulda dyed your hair, then,” Natasha teases, kissing her cheek. “You look cute.”

“Should we be paying attention?” Steve asks.

Bucky smirks. “Maybe? I guess?”

“We haven’t set out which classrooms are going to be designated for the indoor trick-or-treating,” Sarah is saying, “but it might be more fun for the kids if they’re not all together. I’m going to set up in my room, if those who are not my neighbors want to volunteer.”

“My room is available,” says Jarvis. “If you think my costume is, er. Appropriate.”

“Honestly, the kids are just gonna see a guy in a suit,” Sarah smirks.

“I’ll take one for the humanities wing,” Sousa offers. “Probably better than trying to shepherd a bunch of them around.”

“And me!” chimes in Dum-Dum.

Angie coaxes some of the other teachers and volunteers into filling various spots - Natasha ends up at bowling, Bucky at the beanbag toss - before adding, “Oh, I guess we should have someone set up in case there’s an emergency. Ana, could you do that?”

Ana nods. “I would be glad to,” she agrees.

“And as for you,” Angie says to Thompson, who’s smirking at her and standing in such a way to make it impossible to ignore his “sexy policeman” outfit, “you’re doing the fishing game.”

He scoffs. “That’s the worst! Why are you making me do it?”

“‘Cause hot pants aren’t appropriate for little kids, genius,” replies Angie, rolling her eyes.

“As least this way you’ll be able to hide behind a tarp,” Sarah says wryly.

Thompson makes a face at her.

“Would you guard the extra candy?” Colleen asks Principal Phillips, smiling.

He sighs. “Sure. As long as I don’t have to talk to anybody.”

“Only other adults,” she promises.

“And you can run the bingo corner,” says Angie to Dooley, with a smirk.

“ _Really_?” But she glares at him and he hunches his shoulders.

“We’ll get some of our volunteers to chaperone the kids from door to door,” Colleen explains.

Angie glances over at Steve’s group. “You other three mind doing that?”

“Glad to,” Steve says with a nod.

 

* * *

 

“Why do you have weapons?” a tiny Darth Vader asks Steve, voice slightly muffled from the mask.

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Well, you’ve got one there,” he observes, nodding to the kid’s plastic lightsaber. “Why are you carrying it?” This seems like a better strategy than being completely honest right now.

“Because I’m the boss of the Empire,” the girl says, flicking the toy so it extends fully.

“Well, I…” Steve falters, trying to think of a child-friendly way to explain this. “I’m best friends with someone who’s trying to fight the boss of where we’re from, and he’s not a nice man.”

“Oh.” She nods very seriously. “That’s okay then. You shouldn’t use weapons to hurt people unless maybe they’re really bad. I’m okay, because I’m just pretending.”

“Right now, I am too,” Steve says with a small smile. “But you’ve got the right idea.”

They stop at Jarvis’ room, who seems mildly perplexed by the whole affair but nevertheless smiles. “Would you like some candy?” he asks the kids.

“You’re supposed to let us say trick or treat first,” announces a little boy wearing what appear to be monarch butterfly wings.

“Oh dear,” says Jarvis to himself. “My apologies.” He looks expectantly at them.

“It’s okay,” the boy says. “Now you know.”

They chorus “Trick or treat,” and Jarvis holds out the candy bowl obligingly. Once they’ve all gotten their share, Steve gives Jarvis a salute.

“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis,” he says in a voice that encourages the kids to repeat after him.

“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis.”

 

* * *

 

“Don’t you have any _good_ candy?”

Thompson groans. He’s been stuck here for fifteen minutes and he’s already resenting every kid who so much as walks by. And now this. “You get what you get,” he calls out over the cardboard barrier.

“Yeah, well, your candy sucks,” says the kid, and Thompson can’t help but lean around just enough to see who’s giving him so much trouble. She looks about nine or ten and she’s blond and wearing a white shirt and red leather pants and holding a cardboard scythe. Jesus christ.

“Aren’t you a little young for that show?”

“Aren’t _you_ a little old for short shorts?” she retorts.

Goddamn. He sighs. “Look, if I give you a plastic ring or something will you buzz off?”

“Make it two and it’s a deal,” she says, sounding overly pleased with herself.

At the nurse station the next table over, Ana snickers.

 

* * *

 

“Can you show me how to throw?” an eight-year-old who appears to be dressed as a skeleton-ballerina-cat asks Bucky.

“Um.” Bucky coughs awkwardly. “Sure.” He puts out his hand for the beanbag, and she gives it to him. “Okay, so the main thing is that you want to throw overhand, not underhand. Like this.” He demonstrates. “If you throw overhand, it’s gonna miss most of the time because you’re throwing it at the ground. Underhand sends it into an arc, which means it’s more likely to hit your target.”

She nods. “That’s better than they explain it in PE,” she declares.

“Oh yeah? Good.” He gives the beanbag an example toss and then hands her another one. “Try that out.”

She does, and it doesn’t hit the bullseye but it isn’t a total miss, either. “Like that?”

“Yeah. Maybe swing your arm back a little farther when you’re getting ready,” suggests Bucky.

“Okay,” she says, and she gives it a try.

This time she makes the bullseye, and she bounces up and down and shrieks a little from excitement, and Bucky can’t help but feel proud of her. Kids make him nervous a lot, but ones like this? They’re not so bad.

“Thank you!” she exclaims, beaming.

“Sure thing, kid,” he says with a smile. “Here, you earned this.” He gives her a handful of candy - they’re only supposed to get two pieces for a bullseye, but no one’s gonna care.

Of course, that makes her eyes go wide, like she’s being told a secret. “You’re really nice,” she declares. “An’ your arm is cool.” That second part is said more shyly.

“Thanks. I like your, uh, costume too.”

 

* * *

 

“Why are you pregnant?” asks one of the kids in Sharon’s group, who appears to be dressed as a zombie Mickey Mouse.

One answer would be, _because I’m going to wind up being the pregnant one and I might as well get used to it_. Another would be, _because I’m blonde._ Another would be, _because Immortan Joe is a sick motherfucker._

“Because the girl I’m dressed as is pregnant,” Sharon says with a smile, leading them up to the shop classroom door.

Inside, Dum-Dum bounds up with a big grin and a bucket of candy. “Hey there, kidth!” he says, exaggerating a lisp in order to stay in character as Tigger.

The kids, of course, all giggle delightedly, except a girl in the back of the bunch dressed (apparently appropriately) as Wednesday Addams, who rolls her eyes.

“Trick or treat!” all of them (save her) chorus.

“Take thome candy!” he says, dropping entire handfuls into their buckets.

“Thank you,” Sharon mouths at him, grateful.

He winks at her. “Happy Halloween, from T-I-double-G-R! That thpells Tigger!” Then he notices that the Wednesday is sulking at the back and asks, mostly dropping the lisp, “Hey, what’s wrong there, kiddo?”

“This is boring,” she pouts. “It’s not scary at all.”

“Oh,” he says, nodding in understanding. “Well, you should head down to the gym. I’ve got a friend there, specializes in the scariest stories I’ve ever heard.”

The kid looks at Sharon. “May I?”

“I should walk you down,” Sharon says. “Anyone else want to go in for terrifying story time?”

About half the kids raise their hands.

“That’s settled,” Sharon declares.

 

* * *

 

“Here we are,” Sharon announces, ushering the interested kids into the gym.

Dottie, who’s been on her phone for the last half hour since no one has shown up yet, glances up and grins. “Hey! You guys here for scary stories?”

“ _Please_ ,” groans tiny Wednesday, immediately coming to sit cross-legged in front of Dottie. “Your costume is wonderful.”

“Well, thanks! Yours is too,” says Dottie. “Now, our first story is gonna be about Snow White, but not quite the way you’ve heard it before…”

This goes on for a while, most of the kids seeming enthralled, before Principal Phillips wanders in. He listens for a moment (Dottie is just describing the point at which the vampire Snow White watches the villagers burn the queen) before asking, “Uh, Ms. Underwood, can I have a word with you?”

There’s a series of groans from the children. “The story was just getting to the good part,” Wednesday whines.

“It’s okay!” says Dottie brightly. “I’ll be back in just a minute and then I’ll tell you all about the haunted mannequins!” She stands up and follows Phillips to the other side of the gym. “What’s up?” she asks, putting on her best innocent face.

“You are aware those are children, right?” Phillips asks.

She shrugs. “So? They need a good scare sometimes. Keeps ‘em from being too complacent.”

He sighs. “Well, if some parent calls me complaining about their crying kid, I’m not gonna protect your ass.”

“Understood,” she chirps, and heads back over toward the kids. He shakes his head and leaves.

 

* * *

 

“Alright kids, next stop is the English room!” says Sam, leading his group towards the door that has a black-and-white printout taped on it. (NOW IS THE WINTER OF OUR DISCOUNT TENT it says, framing a picture of a dilapidated tent with a $1 price tag stuck on it. It makes Sam chuckle to himself.)

“Good afternoon, old sport!” Sousa says cheerfully as he opens the door, toasting Sam with his currently-filled-with-soda prop glass.

“Oh my god,” Sam says, laughing before he can stop himself. “Gatsby, right?”

Sousa nods. “The very same,” he says, affecting a 1920s sort of voice. “Hello there, squirts!”

Two little boys wearing crowns and capes look at each other, perplexed. “Hi?”

“Go on, say it,” Sam encourages them.

“Trick or treat,” the boys say, and the other kids echo.

“Well, here’s your candy,” Sousa announces, passing it out to each child. “And when you’re a little older, do come and look me up. Everybody says my parties are a good time.”

“Okay?” the little boys say.

“I’m sure they will. Later, Gatsby,” says Sam with a grin and a wave.

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t help but notice that someone seems to have knocked my niece up,” Peggy says wryly, approaching the currently-empty bowling station where Natasha waits.

Natasha chuckles. “Yeah, well, she was the blonde one, and somebody-” she glances over at Steve - “got inspired to do a group costume.”

“It’s very sweet,” Peggy assures. “You all look lovely, though I can’t imagine you’re having a very easy time explaining it to children.”

“Eh, I’m making do. I notice you two are all matchy too,” Natasha replies, nodding at Angie’s Han Solo costume.

Peggy grins and straightens her fedora. “Well, turning any action protagonist, especially one as storied as one played by Harrison Ford, into a queer woman is a vast improvement.”

“Damn right,” Natasha says. “Was that your idea, or hers?”

“Of the two of us, which is a drama queen and which would most likely just wear fancy dress and whatever decent-looking wig I happened to find to any costume party?” Peggy smirks. “Gave it away, but you get my point.”

“Yeah. Either way, it’s cute.” Natasha smirks. “And much more kid-friendly.”

“Funny when the costume with a whip is the more kid-friendly one,” Peggy says.

That makes Natasha snort and reply, “Fair point. I mean, it is a more...traditional sort of whip.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s used traditionally,” Peggy cracks. “Although, it is in this case. And I really will refrain from going farther down this line of thought.”

“Oh, don’t stop on my account.” Natasha’s grinning as she adds, “Although you probably should, given where we are.”

“Among other circumstances of our acquaintance,” Peggy sighs. “Are you doing all right here today?”

Shrugging, Natasha makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s fine. Never gonna be my favorite environment, but it’s been fairly quiet over here.”

“None of the little monsters have given you too much trouble?” Peggy asks. “I know they can get wild, especially with this much sugar in the mix. Makes me glad this is a high school and not a grade school.”

“Nah, they’ve been fine. Bowling’s not something you can get too worked up about.”

“You’ve clearly never been bowling with Thompson,” Peggy says.

“Oh god, I can imagine,” replies Natasha with a roll of her eyes. “Do they make you guys go on like, forced bonding exercises at the bowling alley or something?”

“Worse,” Peggy deadpans. “It was his birthday. The poor schmuck actually invited us there under the guise of having fun.”

“Jesus. Sounds like a trainwreck.”

“Nothing like rolling splits three times in a row to make certain parties show their sexist, racist, _and_ ableist sides all in one muttered tirade,” Peggy nods.

“Wonderful. Was there at least booze?”

“Cheap bowling alley margaritas that practically come in bowls.”

“And I’m guessing he wasn’t buying,” snarks Natasha.

“At least he didn’t expect us to bring him birthday presents,” Peggy sighs.

Laughing, Natasha says, “Yeah, god only knows the kinds of things he would ask for. Good call putting him behind a cardboard wall.”

“It’s been hard enough for Angie and Colleen and Sarah to organize this little carnival without getting hell from parents,” Peggy says. “Putting Officer Viagra out of sight was necessary.”

“I’m never calling him anything else again.”

“Good.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey there, Jarvis,” Morita says as Ana comes into his room.

“Good grief,” Ana sighs, rolling her eyes fondly. “Are the little ones behaving?”

He chuckles. “For the most part, yeah. There’s not much in here they can get into anyway, at the moment.”

“Good,” she says. “I don’t suppose you have aspirin squirreled away in here?”

“Actually, I do.” He steps over to his desk and returns with a bottle.

“Thank you,” she about groans, popping one of the pills in her mouth and going to the sink to get a gulp of water. “You’d think the first aid kit would include such a thing, but no.”

“Kids giving you a headache?” he asks sympathetically. “Does this mean no, y’know, offspring for you and Jarvis?”

Ana bursts out laughing. “You’re silly,” she tells him.

“Am I?” he asks with a smirk.

“At this moment, yes,” she says.

He laughs. “Fair enough. Not exactly a priority for me either.”

“I am incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon a genuinely good man who shares my apathy toward children and friends who respect that decision,” she declares.

Morita nods and replies, “With the exception of Gabe, whose munchkins are basically grown, we are a blissfully childfree bunch.”

“We have plenty of children to accommodate,” Ana says. “We’re just also lucky to be able to go home at the end of the day and be without them.”

“The best thing about other people’s children,” Morita agrees.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you all for doing this, truly,” Peggy says.

“Of course, Aunt Peggy,” Sharon smiles, leaning gratefully against Steve.

“It was kinda fun,” replies Natasha.

“See?” Steve teases her.

She reaches over to poke him. “Doesn’t mean I’d like to do it on a regular basis.”

“It was better than I thought, though,” chimes in Bucky.

“You guys did good,” says Angie with a smile. “Now go have your fun, you’ve earned it!”

Sam gives her a salute. “Yes, ma’am, we will.”


	4. my lonely heart is made for two, it beats too slowly without you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sousa has a date, and everybody is curious.

“So,” calls Thompson, strolling into the lounge, “I hear Sousa’s got a hot date, huh?”

Sousa, who is currently sitting as far away from most people as he can while he drinks his coffee, makes a face. “Where’d you hear a thing like that?”

Thompson shrugs. “Places. So who is she?”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “Oh, leave him alone, would you?”

“Nah,” says Thompson, smirking. “C’mon, spill. Is she hot? I bet she’s hot.”

“You’re disgustingly simple,” Colleen sighs.

“You are aware there are more interesting things about women than their physical appearance, yes?” Jarvis asks with a sigh.

“I mean, sure,” Thompson says, shrugging again. “But he’s got eyes, so.”

“If I didn’t, or if they weren’t functional, I would still be able to answer your question by my own personal definition,” Sousa replies.

Peggy and Colleen smirk at each other.

“I bet you met her at a bookstore!” chimes in Angie. “And you both reached for the same book at the same time and your hands touched, and then you laughed and introduced yourselves and you asked her to coffee and she said yes. Her name is something romantic like Genevieve or Chrysanthemum. She has eyes like the sea and a voice like wind chimes.”

Dottie scoffs loudly. “Are you kidding me?” Angie pouts in her direction.

“I doubt it’s that fanciful,” Peggy says more gently. “But I’d be interested in the real story.” She stares at Sousa meaningfully.

“Not you, too,” Sousa groans.

“I think he met her online,” calls Dum Dum from where he’s resting his feet on the card table. “That’s common nowadays.”

“Because you didn’t specify ‘on a dating site’ I’m going to let that slide,” Sousa declares.

“Dating sites,” huffs Miriam as she comes in, “appalling!”

“But arranged marriages hinging on parental approval regardless of the participants’ consent were lovely,” Peggy drawls.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Miriam replies with a glare.

“So, Sousa,” says Angie, glancing over at Miriam and then back to him, eyes gleaming, “how is that boyfriend of yours anyway?”

“Oh, you know,” he says with a casual shrug. “Stunning and kind, from breakfast when we discuss atheism to bedtime when we make love for hours.”

Miriam makes a series of distressed noises. “Principal Phillips, this sort of discussion is _not_ appropriate for the workplace!” she yelps. “Neither the gossip nor the talk of sexual congress!”

Phillips, who is hiding behind a newspaper in the corner, glances up long enough to say, “They’re pulling your leg, Miriam, let it go” before disappearing again.

“But what if the children should hear!”

“The children heard each other say things twice as bad before lunchtime,” Ana points out.

“Well, even so,” sniffs Miriam. “I would _prefer_ if we all kept conversations about our private lives out of common areas.”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “What are we supposed to talk about in here, the weather?”

“I was _trying_ to keep my private life private,” Sousa grumbles.

Jason, the new chem teacher, coughs and then turns to Angie. “So how is _Rent_ coming along?”

“Really well, actually,” replies Angie. “Still in the casting stages, but we’ve got a lot of interest, which is great. This one girl auditioned for Mimi, blew my mind. Crazy the kind of talent we have here.”

“Nobody who’s only in high school can be _that_ talented,” mumbles a blonde woman sitting as far away from everyone else in the room as possible.

“Oh yeah?” asks Angie, a challenge in her voice. “And just who are _you_?”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Whitney Frost. I’m the new building substitute.”

Angie narrows her eyes. “And this qualifies you to judge acting ‘cause why?”

“I’m an actress, but you’ve probably never heard of me because you’re too focused on the mainstream to pay attention to independent theatre,” Whitney huffs, honest-to-god tossing her hair.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Peggy says, tilting her head.

“There was this one kid, Billy, he was trying out for Mark, and I just love this kid, he’s sweet but he’s got so many _feelings,_ you know? And it’s perfect for Mark. And his boyfriend was there to cheer him on, big hulking guy clapping so loud I swear it drowned out everything else.”

Whitney rolls her eyes. “Probably doesn’t know any better.”

“Seems like it’s you who don’t know any better,” fires off Angie.

“Making an educated guess,” Whitney snaps.

“Hey, you seem like you’re not all that fond of kids,” says Thompson, using his soothing-a-frightened-or-angry-animal voice. “So what are you doing here? I mean, nothing wrong with it.”

“And you’re absolutely keen on the little brats?” Whitney asks, one eyebrow raised cartoonishly high.

“Not really, but I don’t go running my mouth about it either-”

In a flash Whitney has pushed her chair back and lunged at him, making some odd growling noise, and Peggy jumps up to get between them. “There’s no need for this,” she says, sighing.

Everyone who saw it happen is wearing some sort of shocked expression, although Angie’s tends more toward rapt fascination. Phillips looks up from his paper long enough to say, “Keep from killin’ each other on school property, that’s all I ask.”

“But sir,” says Thompson, leaning towards a whine, “she-”

Phillips coughs loudly and goes back to his paper.

“So _anyway,_ ” says Angie with a roll of her eyes, turning back to Jason. “I wanna be sure we do everything perfect, ‘cause I love this play. I actually starred in it my freshman year of college, I was Maureen, and everybody said I…”

The door opens and in strides the recently-hired school nurse, Violet. She heads straight for Sousa and kisses him on the cheek, beaming. “Hello, Daniel,” she chirps, sliding in opposite him.

“Hey, Violet,” he replies with a bashful grin.

The entire room is quiet for a long moment before Jarvis comments, “Well, congratulations to you both.”

“Wonderful!” Peggy agrees, grinning. “I hope this means we’ll be getting to know you better, Violet.”

“I hope so too,” Violet says with a friendly nod.

Thompson glances around dubiously. “Her?”

Sousa shrugs. “You sound puzzled.”

“I mean.” Thompson opens his mouth, then seems to think better of it, judging by the glares he’s getting from at least half the room. “Good for you, I guess? She’s, uh. Well.”

Violet sniffs, clearly put off. “Well, I’m about one hundred percent realer than any girl you’ll land.”

“Oh, shit,” says Dottie cheerfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We liked Violet and we were very upset about what happened with her, so we're going to fix it.
> 
> And thanks to Kingsman for this joke we basically stole.


End file.
